


Feathered Lizards Make Good Pets (Apparently)

by Sirifall



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: A Day In The Life type thing, Dipper and Mabel own the Shack now, Gen, Older!Twins, Oneshot, everything is nice and sweet, just some peace and quiet, peace and quiet and a dragon named Gale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifall/pseuds/Sirifall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabel and Dipper lead as peaceful a life as they could - Monster Hunts on weekends with Mabel illustrating for Dipper's new and improved Journals, online classes, and running the Mystery Shack during the day.<br/>Of course, that peace could blow up in their faces any day now, but that's not the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathered Lizards Make Good Pets (Apparently)

“Mabel, you cannot adopt a wild Amphithere.”

It didn't surprise Dipper in the slightest when his sister clutched the feathery dragon closer, and watched as the baby – it was barely four feet long, could it really have migrated already? - nuzzled closer to her pastel pink sweater. “But Dipper! It's so small!”

“But Mabel,” He copied. “It'll get _bigger._ I mean, you remember the last time you tried to adopt a dragon?”

She gasped. “Hey, you had better not be trash-talking my little Swampy!”

“I'm not! I'm just saying that, you know, Swampy got _kinda_ huge! I don't think it's a good idea.” He frowned, directing this statement not only to his sister, but to the small reptile as well. This species was native to the west coast, and while there still weren't that many dragons out and about these days, the twins got all the information on them from Mabel's precious 'Swampy'. Despite this, Dipper felt his resolve cave a little when it sent him a longing look – crap, this one already understood English. “Hey, don't give me that. There is no reason to have you in our home. Literally none.”

“Dipper! Don't be mean!” Mabel might as well have been a dragon in her own right, but he refused to flinch away. “Besides Bro-bro, he doesn't have the standard 'oh I'm to good for anything that isn't gold' thrall!”

“Really?” Interesting... “What did he have, then?”

She grinned. “ _Art supplies!_ ”

Dipper sighed, making a quick count in his head. It took a total of sixteen sentences to loose this argument. Maybe this week's round of intense research was really doing a number on him – usually he lasted at least thirty – and he scrubbed at his eyes in defeat, slightly nudging up the bill of his hat in the process. When he opened them again, Mabel was smiling, showing off brilliantly white teeth.

It took more effort than he'd like to admit to avoid sighing again. “Alright. Alright! But -”

“ _Yes!_ ” She twirled, the dragon – her new partner-in-crime, more like – happily pawing at her arms, feathered wings twitching in glee. 

“\- _But!_ ” Dipper had to grasp his sister's shoulder to get her listening again. She stopped, still grinning ear to ear. “You _have_ to get him on a proper diet this time – that means no human candy for you, little guy.” He added, for politeness' sake. Their new housemate looked confused, but didn't object. “And no going into the study. I mean it, Mabel, I will get the baby gate out of storage if I have to. And you have to let him hunt on his own as soon as he gets too big to go in and out of the house.”

She bounced. “Thanks, Dipper!”

“Yeah, yeah...” The dragon squawked, climbing up onto his sister's shoulder and nuzzling at her hair – Dipper watched as it stopped, blinked in confusion, and pawed at her colored headband. He snorted. “Need help moving?”

Mabel laughed nervously. “Um... Could you? I mean, I have most of the things he's collected already, but having backups would be  _so_ great, and he found this super nice oil paint that I wanna try -”

Dipper smiled. “Yeah, alright, I'll help. You had better introduce him to the house first, though.”

“Right!” Excitement re-established, Mabel all but skipped to the front door, hair and feathery wings alike flying behind the two. “Okay, so this is the front porch; you can come out here early morning and after dark, but every other time you have to go out the back door – oh don't worry, it looks the same, but in the back! And here's the front door – obvious – and in we go!”

The smaller twin scrubbed at his eyes again. Surely some sort of nap would do him good, but this time the point would be moot. The damage is done, gods help him now.

He glared at the sky, praying no one had heard that last thought. He'd had enough trouble with gods to last a lifetime.

Shivering at the memory, Dipper followed his sister inside, hoping against logic that she had actually listened to him when he said the dragon wasn't allowed near his study.

-

“Ugh, evening, Bill.”

As always, the little gold pyramid didn't respond. Dipper sent a smile to the knick-knack and, subsequently, to the bloodthirsty demon trapped inside. “Mabel adopted another dragon today. Amphithere. I'm pretty sure she's naming him 'Gale', but I could be wrong.”

Ever since that one fateful summer when they were twelve, Dipper and Mabel had grown closer and closer to the same anomalies their Great Uncle Ford had studied – it was never an easy life, and they were hard-pressed to find the time for earning funds, but between Mabel's online store, Dipper's publishing, and running the Mystery Shack, they got by.

His study had grown out of the first sub-level of the gutted basement. The room was small, enclosed with thick tree logs and smelling of a strange combination of forest, cooking spices, and books. A single writing desk sat in the very middle of Dipper's controlled chaos, flanked by a small side-table with runes etched into the wood on the left and the thick, knotted branches of a prehistoric tree on the right.

“Anyway, apparently Gale is 'different' because he didn't have the standard gold thrall – weird, right?” He pulled out the desk chair on instinct and proceeded to fall into it, groaning. “He had art supplies instead, so of course I can't say no to him moving in. I've told you how expensive art is.”

Nothing. Occasionally, he thinks talking to his childhood enemy is a bad idea, but Dipper can't find it in him to stop doing it. Mabel didn't help, barging in and talking to Bill when he refused to, saying ' _Dipper, he didn't get banished this time, he's actually stuck here! For all we know, we're the only people he's around! The least we could do is talk to him!'_ . “It's so dumb, I understand that the process is complicated, but  _seriously._ And she still doesn't let me try alchemy! I mean, come on, what do I have to lose?”

_Losing a limb to the process sounds pretty unappealing, Pine Tree._ Dipper puffs out a breath. “Yeah, I know, I know. Converting an arm or something into pure energy would suck. Probably. Hey, I've risked an arm for less... granted, that 'less' was pretty important, but hey, I didn't know that at the time. Besides, you're one to talk, Mister 'Pain is Hilarious'. I cannot believe people love you that much.”

Thank goodness, the first book Dipper had ever published – a description and memoir of both Pines Twins time in Gravity Falls, their adventures, their stories – instead of staying true to the material, he described Bill as a 'large and confronting winged monster, eyes of various shapes and sizes, colors and whites, spattered throughout its imposing form' rather than the actual Illuminati symbol in a top hat and bow tie. The 'monster' was met with automatic love from all readers, Bill's natural 'charm' earning readers trust even after his defeat. It was laughable.

And, Dipper will readily admit, a little bit terrifying.

_You can't stop me forever, kid! One of these days, you'll feel all cozy and safe, and I'll still be watching! Someone has to mess up eventually, and my money's on it being_ you _!_

“'One of these days', huh?” Dipper nudged the pyramid with his pinky.

With that, he reached over to the side table, flicking open a thick, string-bound clump of paper and opening it to a clean page, pulling a pen from his shirt pocket. With heavy eyes and a demon that was always watching, always waiting, Dipper smiled and began writing in peace.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
